A Christmas Scandal (24 page)

“That isn’t much of a hint,” Amelia said, laughing.

“Because there isn’t much of an engagement,” Maggie said, sitting down and rubbing her temples with her index fingers. She was beginning to get a rather hideous headache.

The small dinner party was interrupted by the footmen presenting a lemon sponge cake with honey drizzled over it as a light dessert. Maggie took a small forkful even though she was feeling slightly ill.

“I have business to attend to,” Lord Hollings said, standing abruptly. “If you ladies will pardon me.”

Maggie watched him go, feeling the temptation to throttle her mother grow tenfold. “Mother, how could you say such a thing?” she hissed.

Her mother looked at her like a puppy who’s been caught ripping up a cherished item. “I spoke out of turn, didn’t I?”

“That is quite the understatement,” Maggie muttered, pushing her plate away. The cake was delicious, but her stomach simply couldn’t take another bite.

“Who is your intended?” Amelia said, her eyes going to the door where Lord Hollings had just disappeared.

“There is no intended,” Maggie said, more harshly than she intended. “The only thing engaged in this room is my mother’s imagination.”

“And me,” Amelia said, grinning.

Maggie smiled. “And you.”

Lord Hollings was quite good at not being seen. Over the next four days, no one saw hide nor hair of the man who was supposed to be accompanying the women to all sorts of entertainments. He’d missed a small private concert in Lord Wakefield’s home, a luncheon at Lady Spindleton’s, and a supper at Mr. Randolph’s massive mansion in Mayfair. His obvious absence put a damper on the events, for all three women, if not especially Maggie. She had wandered the house at all hours hoping to see Lord Hollings, but either he was not actually living in the town house or he kept such late hours he managed to avoid all contact.

In a bit of desperation, Maggie decided to write to him and ask for a meeting.

Maggie smiled down at the brief note knowing he would likely crumple the thing into a ball and toss it into the fire. But he would no doubt schedule a meeting.

Edward did precisely what Maggie had predicted, except for the part about him scheduling a meeting. God, did the woman have absolutely no heart in that ice chest of hers? Did she not recall him begging her to marry him, telling her he loved her, making a complete and utter ass of himself over her? To think he had carried that damned book around with him like a child carrying a favorite toy. Never in his life had he been so disgusted with his behavior. She wanted to meet with him? Too damned bad.

Thus far in what he knew would be a torturous season, Edward had managed to avoid attending the events with his sister and her two chaperones. But he could not avoid attending Lord Wethering’s ball. Wethering had been one of those cash-poor peers who was genuinely interested in making money by working for it. Edward counted the viscount as a friend and they had muddled through a few business dealings together. Edward was a bit more knowledgeable having had an uncle who was a genius at business. Wethering was celebrating a good year, having made more money in the past twelve months than his father had in the past twelve years.

So it was an irritated Lord Hollings who tugged at his cuffs in impatience while he awaited the grand entrance of the females. He had not seen anyone in nearly five days, for he found, for some reason, any female living beneath his roof highly annoying. His sister could only gush on and on about Carson, even though he deeply suspected the letter she waited for on tenterhooks would never arrive. Maggie was far too pleased with herself, far too oblivious of the knife she was twisting delightedly into his back. And her mother was…well, she was simply irritating for no particular reason other than she was related to Maggie.

He could not wait until this evening was over.

When the three of them finally made their entrance, he scowled and muttered, “Of course.” Of course she would look stunning. Why wouldn’t she? No doubt she would attract a herd of men to her side this night. No doubt she would delight them with her effervescent personality and that dress that hardly covered her. He fought the strong urge to throw a blanket about her. The dress, a deep copper with some sort of gold lacy underskirt, exposed her chest to an alarming degree. He could clearly see the plump mounds of her breasts and wondered if she would be totally exposed if she simply bounced a bit.

His sister, on the other hand, wore an extremely modest off-white creation that fit her like a sack compared to the form-fitted dress Maggie wore. She might as well have hung a sign around her neck saying “Unavailable.”

“You are all lovely,” he said in an obligatory way.

Amelia smiled at him. “Really?”

The brat knew she looked plain, not an easy task for a girl as lovely as his sister. She certainly wasn’t dressed the way she had been the night she’d met Carson.

“I do believe Cook has an old potato sack in the kitchen you could wear at the next ball,” he said dryly.

“Oh? I do hope she can spare it,” Amelia said with a smug smile. “And there is absolutely nothing wrong with this dress, is there, Maggie?”

“Perfectly appropriate for a single girl.”

“Who wants to remain single,” Lord Hollings added.

Amelia simply laughed. “You know, Edward, I could have had my feelings hurt.”

“But you didn’t, did you?”

“No.” Amelia looked entirely too pleased with herself and Harriet simply shook her head, completely confused by the entire exchange. “You must not have had any brothers growing up, did you, Mrs. Pierce?”

“No, and I’m beginning to thank goodness I didn’t,” she said.

Edward helped the women into his coach, keeping his touch as brief as possible as he handed Maggie up. He did not meet her eyes, even though he sensed she was staring at him, almost willing him to look at her. The ride in the carriage was brief, but necessary; one simply did not walk to a ball. Waiting in the queue took longer than actually reaching it, and by the time they stopped in front of the manse, it was all Edward could do but run from the chattering magpies that filled his coach. They had not stopped talking for a moment but to breathe, and while one was breathing, the others were talking. He longed to do nothing more than head to the Wetherings’ billiard room, but knew he had to do his duty first by hanging about his sister.

“I know someone will ask me to dance, and I will of course, but I certainly will not enjoy it,” Amelia vowed.

Maggie laughed. “But what if the most handsome, richest, kindest man in England comes up to you? What shall you do?”

“That man has already left,” Amelia said, and Edward barely suppressed a grown.

As he’d predicted, the men could not keep their eyes from Maggie. He ignored them and tried his best to ignore her. It was the first time he’d attended a ball and not asked her to dance. Too raw was the memory of the last ball, when they’d gone out to the terrace and he’d kissed her. He’d not repeat that mistake again.

Instead, he made an effort to dance with every other beautiful woman in the room and hardly noticed the bevy of admirers constantly surrounding Maggie. All he could think of was that she certainly was not acting like an engaged girl. At least his sister, as disillusioned as she was, was trying not to attract attention to herself. He was rather proud of her loyalty and hoped Mr. Kitteridge warranted it. Unfortunately, if Amelia continued to act the wallflower, she would have little hope of attracting a man to replace the one occupying her heart. Edward suspected his entire plan was doomed to fail. He had underestimated his sister’s complete devotion to Kitteridge. Just as he had woefully overestimated Maggie’s attraction to himself.

Just as he was about to leave the ballroom, Amelia came up to him looking miserable. “I wish to leave,” she said.

“Has something happened?”

“I simply cannot enjoy myself without Carson here.”

“Try. I’m going to the billiard room to discuss business. I shouldn’t be more than an hour. Can you at least endure that much?”

“I suppose.”

“You know, Amelia, you might find yourself having fun if you would allow yourself to.”

“I could say the same to you. I’ve noticed you haven’t had a single dance with Miss Pierce.”

His eyes found her on the dance floor as she looked up, smiling, into the face of a viscount who was heir to a dukedom. The young man looked completely entranced. “She seems to be having a fine time without me. If you will excuse me, Amelia, I’ll try not to be too long.”

Though Maggie tried not to let it show, she was disappointed Lord Hollings hadn’t asked her to dance, though she understood why. No doubt her mother’s “announcement” was not well received. She was relieved when Amelia found her, just after one in the morning, and told her they were leaving.

Tonight, she would not let him escape her.

When the four walked through the door, they were a subdued bunch, all lost in their own thoughts.

“Good evening, ladies,” Edward said, removing his coat and handing it off to a footman.

“If I could have a moment, Lord Hollings,” Maggie said. Everyone in the room stopped still for a moment, before the other two women continued up the stairs even though they were no doubt dying with curiosity.

“It is quite late, Miss Pierce. If you don’t mind…”

“I do. I need to talk to you about my engagement.”

“I don’t see why I need to know the details of your love life,” he said succinctly.

Maggie closed her eyes briefly. “Edward, please. This is very difficult for me.”

He gave her a mocking bow, then led her to his second-floor library, where a fire had been lit by servants who apparently knew well their lord’s habits. He walked to a side table as if to pour himself a brandy, then turned to her instead.

“Go on, Miss Pierce. I’m waiting with bated breath.”

“Could we please sit?” Maggie asked, nodding toward a small couch. She wasn’t certain her shaking knees could hold her much longer.

Edward hesitated a moment before walking over to the couch and sitting down. Maggie sat, perched on the edge, and clutched her hands together in her lap.

“I need to tell you some things.” She steepled shaking hands in front of her face, pressing the bridge of her nose, before forcing them back to her lap. She couldn’t look at Edward, was so afraid that he would never look at her the same again. If he did, if he looked at her with disgust, if he turned away, she wasn’t certain she could bear it.

“When you asked me to marry you, I could not. It wasn’t because I was in love with Sir William. And it certainly wasn’t because I didn’t love you.” Her throat closed and she swallowed. Edward let out a small sound, of anger, disbelief, pain, she wasn’t certain. But she forged ahead, letting out a small, shaky laugh. “This is so difficult. I knew it would be. I…I…”

“Good God, Miss Pierce, just say it.”

She finally looked at him. He looked angry and impatient and she almost lost her nerve then and there. “It is not easy for me to say what I have to say.” Her eyes filled with tears and her throat burned.

When he saw her tears, his expression softened slowly, almost reluctantly. “Go on,” he said softly.

“When my father was arrested, everyone told us he would likely be sentenced to five years. He was very much a pariah in New York. We lost all our friends. My brother lost his job. It was as if overnight we had become outcasts. That was bad enough. But one night I overheard him with my mother and he was crying, my father was
crying,
and he was telling my mother that he couldn’t bear five years. One, perhaps. But not five. It tore at my heart to hear him so.”

“I’m sorry, Maggie.”

She continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “I thought I could help, you see. I went to his partner to see if anything could be done. If perhaps he had any influence or knew of a way to have the sentence reduced. He laughed, and told me I had no money, nothing to give him to convince him to help me. I was desperate to help my father. I would have done anything.” She let that last sentence hang there, gathering its sordid meaning.

“You don’t have to tell me this,” Edward said harshly, but with an underlying kindness that gave Maggie courage.

“I do. I do, because you have to understand why a woman so desperately in love would say no to a marriage proposal from the only man she has ever loved.”

Edward shook his head, as if trying to deflect the words that battered him.

“That man, he agreed with the bargain and so I let him,” she said, nearly whispering as tears spilled over. “And then when my father was sentenced, it was for five years. Five.”

“Oh, God, Maggie.”

“And then Arthur broke it off and we came here. I was so ashamed and I loved you so much, but I wasn’t the girl I’d been in Newport. I knew that even if you did not. Then you said you loved me and wanted to marry me and…”

Edward closed his eyes. “And I told you I was so glad to be your first.” When he opened his eyes, they were filled with a profound remorse.

She nodded, so overwhelmed she could hardly speak. “I couldn’t tell you. I was afraid if I did, you wouldn’t love me anymore.”

Edward smiled. “You do know how foolish that is, don’t you? God knows I’ve tried to stop loving you. I hardly think this will work.”

Maggie let out a watery laugh. “I so wanted you to be the first. The only.”

His eyes became suspiciously wet. “You will be, Maggie-mine. That other hardly counts, does it.”

“I don’t want it to. It wasn’t very pleasant. Not like with you, when you…” She blushed. “Lord Hollings, will you marry me?”

He let out a laugh, and looked at her as if she’d gone quite mad. “Marry you?” he asked, sounding incredulous, and Maggie’s heart sank like a stone. “My God, Maggie, of course I’ll marry you.”

She threw herself into his arms, but he pushed her gently away.

“I must say, it’s quite improper and rather unmanning for you to have proposed to me. I’m afraid, just for that reason, I must insist we do this properly.”

Maggie, suppressing a smile in an attempt to be serious, nodded enthusiastically. Edward leaped up, looking excited and boyish, his blue eyes sparkling with something almost mischievous. “Stay here,” he said, and ran from the room, leaving Maggie alone with only her grin.

She could hear him bounding up the stairs, most likely taking them two at a time. He was back in less than two minutes and came directly to her, getting down on one knee. Then with a dramatic flourish, he pulled out a spectacular diamond and ruby ring.

“Margaret Pierce, will you make me the happiest of men for the rest of my life?”

For once, Maggie was speechless. She simply nodded her head and threw herself into his arms, crying happy tears.

“I’m quite lost without you, you know,” he said.

“I know,” she said on a watery laugh. “I could tell. You are not very good at hiding your feelings.”

Edward drew her to him and kissed her, deepening that kiss until she was melting against him. Kissing him, holding him, was so right, so good.

“And you are too good at hiding your feelings. I had no idea how much you were suffering. You must have been working very hard at that. I have to blame it on the fact that I was out of my mind in love with you and you didn’t seem to care a bit for me. You are never to do that again,” he admonished.

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” Maggie said. “There’s only one more thing I need for you to do. And this is perhaps the most difficult thing for me to say.”

His brows furrowed in concern. “Anything.”

She pressed her lips together. “Make me forget. Make me forget everything but you and me and this.” She leaned over and kissed him softly, then pulled away to look into his eyes silently telling him what she wanted, needed.

“You mean, now?”

Maggie blushed and giggled. “If you don’t mind.”

“If I don’t mind, she says. My God, Maggie, I’ve dreamed of making love to you from the moment I saw you in Newport.”

“Truly?”

“Yes. Truly.”

“Then if you don’t mind.”

He let out a laugh. “I don’t mind if you don’t mind getting married as soon as possible and be damned the gossip. Unless you want to wait until your father is released?”

Maggie shook her head slowly. “He’ll understand. I’ve already told him all about you.” She tilted her head, smiling. “My room or yours?”

“Maggie,” he said, pulling her in for a quick kiss, “you are too good to be true.”

They agreed to meet in his room in twenty minutes. Maggie silently entered her room, and once a sleepy maid helped her remove her dress, she dismissed her, her nerves jangled and raw. Suddenly, everything she touched seemed impossibly sensual. Her cotton gown, which she’d worn a hundred times, brushed against her nipples, which had become incredibly sensitive. She brushed her curling black hair, her eyes gazing at her reflection, and she smiled in happy anticipation.

She was going to make love this night and it would be for the first time. That thing she’d done with Barnes was simple mating, and was somehow so distant from the woman she was now, it seemed like a different person altogether.

When twenty minutes had passed, she tiptoed down the hall, past the library, to Edward’s suite, which she had never laid eyes on, never mind entered. The door had been left open a crack, and instead of knocking, she simply pushed it open, feeling a welcoming cool breeze from the opened French doors at the other end of the room. She closed the door and looked about the room, lit only by a single gas sconce. The room appeared empty, but Maggie heard what sounded like running water from behind a door. She stood at the entrance, uncertain what to do, whether she should wait for him to finish whatever he was doing, or climb upon his bed. For an instant, she had the particularly naughty idea of removing her cotton nightgown.

It was rather warm and humid, this night. That breeze would feel far better caressing her naked skin. Maggie smiled, wondering what his reaction would be if he came out of his bathing room to find her naked on his bed, wearing nothing but a smile. It was quite a singular way to make this planned event a bit spontaneous, and she bit her lower lip trying to garner the courage to do something so completely outrageous. The old Maggie would have done it, she realized, feeling a surge of bravery.

Quickly, before she could change her mind, she pulled the nightgown over her head and made a beeline for his bed, lying down on her back. No. This would never do. She felt far too exposed. Then she lay on her stomach with only her backside exposed, facing the bathing room, her knees bent and her feet in the air and crossed, as if she were doing nothing more risqué than reading a book. Somehow it seemed more proper and less bare. Propping her chin on her hands, she waited for him to come out.

Edward put his hand in the water to test it and smiled. It was perfect. She would be here any moment, and he wanted this bath to be a surprise. Wiping his hands on a soft Turkish towel, he walked out of his bathing room and stopped dead.

There before his eyes was a vision he would never forget. Maggie lay naked on his bed, smiling up at him, her hair a frothy black tangle around her head and down her back. Her very smooth, silky, lovely
naked
back. The soft gaslight seemed to make her skin glow, and it was all he could do not to rush to her and hold her against him. He was instantly and painfully hard. The wind was literally knocked from his lungs and he nearly sank to his knees and thanked God for this gift.

“Hello,” said the little imp on his bed.

“Hello.” Barefoot, he padded over to the foot of the bed where she lay waiting for him, and knelt down so their heads were even. Then he kissed her, letting out a groan of love and need, placing his hands on either side of her head to deepen the kiss. She let out a sound of pleasure that drove him mad, and he thrust his tongue against hers, moving in an erotic rhythm. After several long, drugging moments, he pulled back. “I have a surprise for you.”

She smiled. “I adore surprises.”

He stood, holding out his hand, and for a moment he thought she would be too shy to take it and stand. But she did, a playful smile on her face, as if she knew perfectly well he knew she was only pretending to be so bold. He led her into his secret place, his one real indulgence. A bathing room so elegant and sinful he’d almost felt guilty when he ordered it built. It was a room filled with marble and gilt, warm fluffy towels, soft gas lighting, with fingers of steam coming from a bathtub large enough to hold five people, though it had only ever held one.

“This is my secret lair,” he said, a bit sheepish.

Maggie stared open mouthed and he could tell she’d never seen anything like it in her life. It was a room made for sin and decadence. One almost expected nymphs to come dancing into the room holding out plump, juicy grapes to nibble on. With a little squeal, she let go of his hand and ran for the huge tub, a glorious sight of happy naked female. Amused and delighted, he followed in her wake and was somehow not surprised that she not only climbed right in without testing the water, but sank in past her head, letting out bubbles like a child.

Slowly she raised her head out of the surface, her face shiny and wet, laughing as her hair tangled about her like an exotic mermaid. “This is wonderful,” she said, moving her hands through the water and obscuring her naked form beneath the surface. She suddenly, unexpectedly, got shy as if realizing for the first time she was naked in a tub with a man standing over her. She put her hands over her breasts and bit her lip.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, drawing her hands away. He shook his head in wonder looking down at her, knowing without a doubt he was the luckiest man on earth. How many times had he fantasized about such a moment, tortured himself with visions of Maggie looking up at him like this? And now she was here, in this room, wet and warm and smiling shyly up at him. “Tell me this is not a dream, Maggie.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Edward. I cannot. This is a dream. A wonderful, magical dream where anything can happen. Anything good.”

He nearly wept right then, for gratitude, for love, for just having her finally, finally, with him.

“Will you be…” She pressed her lips together in that way of hers, exposing her charming uncertainty. “…joining me?”

“I think I shall.” He made short work of his clothes, and stood before her, smiling when she averted her eyes from him, a shyness that tugged at his heart. He let her be shy. For now. “Here I come,” he said, and climbed into the tub on the opposite side. He touched one of her feet with his knee and she pulled it away, then slowly brought it back. Then, moving deliberately, he went to her, and without laying a hand on her, kissed her gently, savored her softness, the small sounds she made when she liked what he did to her. He sat next to her, and then, in one fluid moment, pulled her onto his lap and laughed aloud at her expression. She might not have been a virgin, but she was exceedingly innocent nonetheless.